As Mr. James shut the side door behind him, radio music burst from every window of his house. Agnes, in the kitchen, was tuned in to one station; his wife, washing her hair in the bathroom, to another.
The competing programmes followed him to the garage and into the lane.
He had twelve miles to drive to the station, and for the first five of them he remained in a black mood.
He was in most matters a mild-tempered person—in all matters, it might be said, except one; he abominated the wireless.
It was not merely that it gave him no pleasure; it gave active pain, and, in the course of years, he had come to regard the invention as being directed deliberately against himself, a conspiracy of his enemies to disturb and embitter what should have been the placid last years of his life.
He was far from being an old man; he was, in fact, in his middle fifties; he had retired young, almost precipitously, as soon as a small legacy had made it possible. He had been a lover of quiet all his life.
Mrs. James did not share this preference.
Now they were settled in a small country house, twelve miles from a suitable cinema.
The wireless, for Mrs. James, was a link with the clean pavements and bright shop windows, a communion with millions of fellow beings.
Mr. James saw it in just that light too. It was what he minded most—the violation of his privacy. He brooded with growing resentment on the vulgarity of womankind.
In this mood he observed a burly man of about his own age signalling to him for a lift from the side of the road. He stopped.
“I wonder if by any chance you are going to the railway station?” The man spoke politely with a low, rather melancholy voice.
“I am; I have to pick up a parcel. Jump in.”
“That’s very kind of you.”
The man took his place beside Mr. James. His boots were dusty, and he sank back in his seat as though he had come from far and was weary.
He had very large, ugly hands, close-cut grey hair, a bony, rather sunken face.
For a mile or so he did not speak. Then he asked suddenly, “Has this car got a wireless?”
“Certainly not.”
“What is that knob for?” He began examining the dashboard. “And that?”
“One is the self-starter. The other is supposed to light cigarettes. It does not work. If,” he continued sharply, “you have stopped me in the hope of hearing the wireless, I can only suggest that I put you down and let you try your luck on someone else.”
“Heaven forbid,” said his passenger. “I detest the thing.”
“So do I.”
“Sir, you are one among millions. I regard myself as highly privileged in making your acquaintance.”
“Thank you. It is a beastly invention.”
The passenger’s eyes glowed with passionate sympathy. “It is worse. It is diabolical.”
“Very true.”
“Literally diabolical. It is put here by the devil to destroy us. Did you know that it spread the most terrible diseases?”
“I didn’t know. But I can well believe it.”
“It causes cancer, tuberculosis, infantile paralysis, and the common cold. I have proved it.”
“It certainly causes headaches,” said Mr. James.
“No man,” said his passenger, “has suffered more excruciating headaches than I.
“They have tried to kill me with headaches. But I was too clever for them. Did you know that the BBC has its own secret police,............